If politics can't lock out big money, it's time to get serious about disclosure
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Version 0 of 1. It’s a funny thing when it comes to money, and parliamentary perks, and political donations. The helicopter view on this (sorry, Bronwyn Bishop) is these issues run in small cycles of intense outrage, usually yielding nothing terribly definitive by way of change. I can’t really explain this phenomenon, I can only observe it and mount the only resistance possible. I can insist that this weekend, instead of unpacking the minutiae of what happens now that the Speaker of the House of Representatives has been referred to the constabulary – the implications of this for her and the concomitant difficulties for Tony Abbott – that we talk about the underlying disease and not the symptoms. We really have to talk about money, and how it’s killing Australian politics. We have to insist on this conversation – all the folks who watch and care and participate in national affairs despite the risk of tinnitus and the constancy of the disappointments – because politics is quite resolutely in a trance, and we need to break them out of it. Over the past fortnight we’ve had helicopter gate (the Speaker, making haste to the party fundraiser, in a luxury conveyance at taxpayer expense) and we’ve had specific episodes that again call into question whether our disclosure system works in the way that it should. We’ve had those disturbing reports about the mafia allegedly seeking political influence, and we’ve had Bill Shorten forgetting to disclose a $40,000 pre-election in-kind gift from a business mate until eight years after the event. The reactions are always too predictable. Everyone who gets pinged for their various missteps reflexively defends themselves. “Lots of people forget to declare their donations. Of course that travel claim was within the entitlement. How absurd to think criminals could infiltrate politics by jumping on the money train and pressing the flesh at fundraisers. Truly, this is fantasy stuff.” The culture quickly circles the wagons, unless the demands of intra-day politics demand a different response. Bishop’s travel forms are now heading in the direction of the Australian federal police because a precedent was set in the last parliament with the former speaker, Peter Slipper – let’s be clear about that. We learned in the last rambunctious and acrimonious parliament that people inside the glasshouse would, in fact, throw stones, and large ones, if it served their immediate interests. What is sown in politics generally comes round to reaping. So this past 24 hours isn’t a moment of deep collective introspection about the entitlements system, resulting in an orderly conclusion that the whole set-up needs a good dose of bleach. This is reverse “ditch the witch”. (Sorry once again, Bronwyn, but you were silly enough to stand cheerily in front of that God-awful sign). Before people shout about me defending Bishop – of course she needs to explain what appears to be an indefensible travel claim. This process should and must take its course. I also think, for the dignity of the important public office she holds, that she should consider standing aside until the matter is properly resolved. To quote Tony Abbott from 2012 in the case of Slipper: “In the same way that ministers in the past have been stood down from the ministry while matters were being investigated, the prime minister must ensure that the Speaker stand aside until this matter is resolved.” But I’d also implore people of good heart and good conscience to demand significantly more from their parliament than a dose of arbitrary tit for tat. We need actual reform, and reform of substance. The parliamentary entitlements scheme needs some sunlight. The public has lost confidence in the system, and parliamentarians need to respond to that loss of trust by determining clear rules, stripping out the self-serving ambiguity. The rules need to be properly policed, and punishment needs to be applied consistently when there are breaches. But the main game – in my view at least – is donations and disclosure. Labor has tried since 2008 to pursue reform in this space only to be thwarted by the Coalition. But the thinking to date has been piecemeal rather than revolutionary. As long as Australian politics chases the money, there will be conflicts. There will be actual conflicts of interest, and there will be perceptions of conflict of interest – which in the current febrile climate, are almost as damaging. If we look at the situation facing the major parties, right now, voters think big business owns the Liberal party and the trade unions own the Labor party. It’s both a cliche, and true enough to be a problem. The Liberal party needs big donations from big business, and Labor needs cash and resources from the trade union movement, to keep their respective operations in the field. Both relationships compromise the political movements. They impose obligations and quid pro quos. Perhaps these relationships were defensible in the 1980s and 1990s when business and the unions seemed more possessed by a sense of national interest. Now capital and labour are inclined to act more like self-interested rent seekers than constructive agents seeking a grand bargain in good faith to improve Australia’s economic and societal wellbeing. Now, these relationships are dead weight in the political process. This is blindingly obvious to everyone who isn’t a protagonist or a player, reliant on the comfort of the club, and the handouts. So what can be done? Working this through is a first principles exercise. The major parties need to make governing for citizens a priority. If you take a citizens-first approach, logically, you’ll increase investment in the health of the system. Instead of private money, there should be more public funding, and caps imposed on expenditures, so campaigns aren’t (as they currently are) an arms race of negative advertising. In an ideal world, you would keep the big money out altogether. You’d sideline the institutional donations, and restrict contributions to individuals at a threshold no higher than $1,000. People inside politics will tell you restricting donations is legally problematic, and creates a secondary problem – the realignment simply pushes the rent-seekers outside the tent. The argument is we’d very quickly see a proliferation of US-style PACs and Super PACs campaigning against laws that various interest groups don’t like. Well folks, I hate to break it to you, but we are already there. We saw it with the trade union campaign against WorkChoices in the run-up to 2007, and the mining lobby’s campaign against the first version of the mining tax. I don’t think that egg can be unscrambled. Politics just has to hold its own in a very crowded marketplace, and the best way to do that is tell the truth more often, and not play the voters for mugs. If it’s too difficult legally to lock out the big money, then Australia needs to get serious about disclosure reform. Right now, the system is a joke that imposes a veneer of respectability on a system riddled with loopholes. We need maximum transparency, at the time of the contribution, not months or years after the fact. What, exactly, is the argument for delay? It’s not a public interest argument, that’s for sure. In a digital world it’s not even complicated to put the structure in place. Fundamentally, this is a very simple proposition. Corporations are required to operate in a system of continuous disclosure. So should politics. |